Sitting down one sunny summer afternoon in a park can sometimes bring about some humbling thoughts. Sitting there, you notice those others that take in the advantage of a warm summer afternoon.
While I am taking a not-so-often random break from a walkabout, I take a glance around at my surroundings. I see others play around with a frisbee, tossing it back and forth. Others play catch with their faithful companion, all wags and eager to play fetch. A young family is taking their young out to mill about the water sprinklers or to wade about in the shallow pool. And, there are those that jog by with their ears plugged into an iPod strapped to their arms.
I got into the habit of going for long walkabouts, often venturing off for a few hours, treading my soles amongst either the gravelly paths or on a paved walkway. My preference is really not that important; however, the pavement is nice. My habit became a hobby or an inexpensive pastime, depending on if I left my debit card at the apartment.
If I could calculate my walkabouts, I’ve estimated that a good five kilometres equals an hour; so, sometimes I’m gone for a good afternoon just out for a walkabout. Mind you, I am not on my feet for that long; I do have the occasional breaks where I do sit down; hence, the park.
Walkabouts can be aimless but to some degree, they aren’t. I like scouting around my surroundings, especially the areas that I may take for granted via driving in my vehicle. As I pass by certain shops, my attention is often grabbed by a certain window display but not enough for me to stop. So, sometimes I plan my walkabouts where I will find myself walking by the window display and checking out the shops.
Walkabouts are definitely not a new idea, for they can be quite a logical choice, stemming for many different reasons. Perhaps you desire to lose some weight; a walkabout can sure help you, and the unwanted weight, along. Perhaps you recently read somewhere that walks can help decrease the risk of diabetes; naturally then, the choice of walking a healthy walk is a good one. Or, perhaps the thoughts are collected into a ramble of mish-mash, keeping you very occupied; then, yes, a good walkabout can aide you along.
While enjoying my quick snack, and studying my gentle milieu of the Saturday afternoon at the park, I glanced down and noticed a little anthill. I munched away and began to focus my attention on the anthill, watching them ants busy themselves away, coming and going from their home. I wondered what they were thinking, or if they were thinking.
I focused on one of the countless ants, watching him (or her) exit the hill and off somewhere. I lost track as he (or she) stepped out into the jungle of cut grass. I wondered if he (or she) was off on an adventure him, or her, self, going off on a walkabout, like me. Okay, perhaps the imagination kind of adopted the computer animated movie depicting ants as a person, or an individual without a thought (or with).
As I sat there and continued to watch the community of ants at their anthill, I wondered how they must be busying themselves for the winter months. While I sit high above their eye level, I must appear to resemble the grasshopper enjoying the summery days from a child’s story. Hmm…
I think the ants can be like ourselves in the concreteness of the city. We sometimes get ourselves so busy, caught up in the preparing our plan-filled day with errands and runs and whatever else.
It does lead somewhere at the end of it all; the plans are all checked out and we can enjoy the rest of the day, depending on the checklist. It ain’t a bad thing, by the way; just got to remember to enjoy it from time to time.
I didn’t stick around too much longer that afternoon, watching the anthill or the peoples around the park. I did have a plan for that sunny summery day: I was on a walkabout.
So, I got up and left my observations on the anthill, allowing them to continue with their busyness, and started off again. Where to? Hmmm, I think I’ll head off in this direction next; perhaps that window display will be worth the walkabout.
Maachestan, the Cree word for the annual spring river ice breakup, is happening all along the James Bay coast.



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